


Skip A Heartbeat

by fackinglouis



Series: You're My Favorite Song [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 12:32:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fackinglouis/pseuds/fackinglouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>He shoots Harry a glare over the rim of his cup and sneers. "Filthy hipster. Look Harry," Louis teases and swallows a mouthful of scalding tea. "I drank my tea before it was cool. Can we be friends now?" His tongue really hurts now, but it's definitely worth it when Harry scowls in return. </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Or the one where Louis actually hates Harry Styles, but also sort of loves him too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skip A Heartbeat

The thing is, nobody annoys Louis more than Harry Styles. Harry Styles, the gangly oaf who just transferred to his grade a month or so ago and who has the biggest collection of ratty, vintage band t-shirts he has ever had the displeasure to see in his lifetime. Louis thinks he actually _loathes_ him.

"I actually hate him," Louis sort of whines, pulling his jean jacket tighter around his body in hopes of staving off the harsh October wind.

"Oh, yeah?" Zayn mumbles disinterestedly around the cigarette he's trying to light, hands cupping around the stick protectively. "What did he do to you?" He doesn't even bother to look up and Louis decides he needs better friends.

"He didn't actually _do_ anything to me-" Zayn snorts. _"But_ he's one of those hipster types that think they're better than everybody because they don't give into the materialistic views of society or some shit like that. And it's annoying, Zayn. I actually hate him."

The cigarette between his lips finally lights just as the warning bell rings inside the school building they're hiding behind, signaling that there's only a minute or two before class starts. Zayn blows out a puff of smoke in response, looking at Louis through narrowed eyes that make him feel itchy all over. It's like he's looking into his soul and he knows exactly what Louis is thinking and Louis could quite literally stomp his foot. "Stop that," he snaps and pushes past his best friend.

"Stop what?" Zayn asks, entirely too amused for Louis' liking.

"I'm going to class. Goodbye," Louis huffs over his shoulder. He really needs better friends; ones that will actually support him in his endeavors whatever they may be. Like, say, hating Harry Styles.

-*-*-*-*-

And really, his dedication to hating Harry Styles would be a thousand times easier if he didn't have half his classes and lunches with the guy. And if said guy wasn't so determined to talk to Louis in every single one of those shared classes and lunches. It's not that Louis tries actively to be rude to him, but after three weeks of his lanky figure becoming an overgrown shadow in his life he's given up on everything including his manners.

"Hello, Louis," Harry greets pleasantly as he drops down into the seat next to him and Louis bristles because _rude._

"I was saving that for my friend," Louis tells him and raises a brow expectantly. But Harry doesn't move. Instead he just smiles wider and takes a big chomp from a shiny red apple that's pulled seemingly from thin air. "You're in Liam's seat."

Lunch period just started so there's a few other seats open around their table, but Louis' feeling particularly petulant today so he holds his glare. Liam has a couple of minutes to get here before he's going to have to pull a chair over himself and squeeze in between two others. While they're not exactly the most popular kids in school, they're not losers by any means either and their table does get quite crowded.

"I'm sure he won't mind," Harry says after a careful swallow. And of course Liam would choose that moment to appear and sit down in the free space on Louis' _other_ side. Harry's smile just intensifies tenfold, if that's even possible, and Louis can actually feel his internal temperature rising.

"Lads," Liam greets, but neither Harry nor Louis break their staring contest. They stay that way for a solid twenty seconds- enough time for Liam's smile to fade into a confused scowl and for him to turn away and strike up a conversation with another member of the table- Niall, probably.

Louis doesn't want to be the one to break eye contact first- he _won't_ be, he's too stubborn for that type of thing, and Harry looks perfectly content to smile at Louis from here on to the rest of their lunch break so neither ends up moving for a while and it's all completely ridiculous. He actually hates Harry Styles.

"What are they doing?" Zayn asks from somewhere behind his back and Louis would listen for a response if Harry didn't decide then was the perfect time to speak up.

"Go on a date with me," he asks confidently- _way_ too confidently for the amount of times Louis has already rejected him. There's a mischievous twinkle sparkling in his eyes and a cheeky little smirk on his lips and Louis shakes his head.

"No."

Harry doesn't look at all phased much to Louis' annoyance. He actually looks amused by this, as if it was just a big game to him and ugh. He _actually hates_ Harry Styles. "You'll say yes eventually," he tells him all-knowingly and Louis just rolls his eyes.

Like hell he will.

-*-*-*-*-

Later that week, Louis' holed up in a far away corner of the public Library still holding on to the diminishing hope that if he surrounds himself with education, he'll be more inclined to study. So far he's found that, unfortunately, the theory is not exactly true if his pages full of inappropriate doodles are anything to go by.

He's just about exhausted his famous penis doodle and is pulling his bag up from the ground, ready to just call it a night when someone flops into the seat across from him. "Fancy seeing you here, Lou," Harry greets and who even says that.

"Are you following me?" Louis questions, maybe a little snippier than necessary. Probably not, though.

Harry laughs and holds up a book in explanation for Louis to see. "No, I came here to pick up a book. See?" The thick font across the cover reads _The Great Gatsby_ and Louis finds himself smiling.

"Oh, I love that one," Louis says through a surprised smile, dropping his bag onto the table and momentarily forgetting about his dedication to hate Harry Styles.

Harry's eyebrows quirk unexpectedly and he asks, "You liked the book?"

Louis shakes his head. "Oh, no. I've not read the book. I saw the film though and it was fantastic. Leo is quite the actor, let me tell you." And it feels like a normal conversation, one that doesn't include boiling blood or rolling eyes. Of course, that is until:

"Yeah, I haven't watched the film yet. I usually like to read the book before, y'know? It's better that way I think," Harry chuckles and Louis can almost taste the condescension in the air and there it is again- the familiar burning hatred that comes along with knowing one Harry Styles.

Louis pushes himself up, swinging the bag over his shoulder and pressing his lips into a thin line. "Alright, yes well, it's been lovely. Ta!" he calls all sugary sweet with a coquettish wiggle of his fingers before starting on his way towards the exit downstairs.

Yet of course, as he's learned before, Harry Styles is nothing if not difficult to get rid of. Like a cockroach which is possibly a harsh metaphor, but fitting nonetheless. He falls into step easily besides Louis, his long legs working leisurely to keep up with Louis' quick pace. "I'll walk you home," Harry decides, going to pull Louis' bag off of his shoulder and sling it on his own.

Louis slaps his hands away, though. "That won't be necessary. I'm perfectly capable of walking home on my own, thanks."

"I'll walk you home, Louis." It sounds final and Louis just walks all that faster, shoes dragging loudly against the pavement as they walk through the front doors together. Harry makes a grab at Louis' bag again and this time he does nothing to stop him. Might as well get something out of the experience other than elevated blood pressure, he figures.

The first few minutes are filled with an awkward silence, only broken by the quiet sounds of Louis' espadrilles crunching through leaves and the echoing click of Harry's stupid hipster heeled shoes on the concrete. Louis doesn't really _like_ the tension, per se, but he's bent on not feeling any pressure to break the quiet between them.

Harry eventually puts an end to their lull in conversation, though, with an inquiry to whether or not he's started studying for the big test they have in History next week. "Sort of," Louis admits. " 'S actually what I was trying to do in the library when you found me."

"Oh," Harry says and something in his tone makes Louis turn and meet his gaze. There's a small frown on those ridiculous lips of his and Louis nudges the boy with his hip. "What's the matter? Have you not started studying yet?"

He shakes his head and hitches the bag higher on his broad shoulder. "I'm sorry I interrupted you," he apologizes and the amount of sincerity in those five words is blowing Louis' mind and pinching uncomfortably in his chest which is dumb. Harry's being dumb. "If I had known you were concentrating I wouldn't have come over."

He's being dumb. He actually looks genuinely concerned that he might've interrupted Louis' studying and that's _dumb_. This is _dumb_ , Louis decides. But also sort of sweet. In a dumb way, of course. "You'd of come over anyway, Harry."

"Probably," he nods, frown loosening up a bit. "But I'd of been quieter," he hedges.  
  
Louis laughs a little at that and shakes his head. "I wasn't studying, don't worry your pretty little head over it. I've never been one to study so I'm not sure as to why I thought I could start now, but c'est la vie."

Harry's abnormally quiet after that and Louis can feel his eyes burning through the side of his skull so he looks over and regrets it instantly when he sees the smile he's receiving. "Stop that," Louis demands instantly. He looks like a child that just successfully nabbed two cookies before lunch time without his mother knowing and it's unnerving. Louis would like him to stop that right now.

"You called me pretty," Harry announces matter-of-factly and well. Shit. Fuck that.

"No," Louis denies. "I don't think I did." Stupid fucking Harry Styles. He hates Harry Styles.

"No, I think you did. You said I had a _'pretty little head'_. You think I'm _pretty_." Louis would like nothing more in that moment to wipe the grin off of his stupid face, but thankfully they turn onto his street and the sight of his house is calming. It'll only be a minute now until he can lock himself in his room and fashion a dart board out of Harry Style's facebook pictures.

Louis breathes through his nose and pulls the bag from Harry's shoulder. "Yes, alright. Look, there's my house right there so. Thank you for walking me home and carrying my bag. I'll see you tomorrow in school. Goodbye."

It seems as if he's finally rid of the lanky teenager when the newly familiar clicking of Harry's heels stop. Except it's not just that he can't hear it walking beside him anymore, it's that he can't hear it at _all_ which means Harry's stopped walking and is just standing there behind Louis probably watching him walk to the door. Creep.

He's dead set on absolutely _not_ turning around until he's safe inside his house and can maybe sneak a peek through the blinds, but Harry's got other plans apparently because he's suddenly shouting, "Louis! Wait!" as soon as he steps up the last stair onto his porch.

Louis turns around in surprise and watches with a careful mask of indifference- just enough to look casual, but not enough to look mean- as Harry jogs up to stand in front of his mailbox. "Go on a date with me," he says, not the least bit out of breath despite his sprint.

"No," Louis denies his request, but for some reason unbeknownst to him there's a small smile on his lips as he does so and a matching one on Harry's as well. Harry shrugs nonchalantly as if he wasn't just rejected _again_ and waves at Louis, finally _finally_ turning around and walking away.

"See you tomorrow!" he calls and Louis'll be damned if he stands out on the porch like a fool, watching him go.

When he makes his way inside his mom has this _smile_ on his face and Louis groans, running up the stairs and closing the door with a little more force than necessary.

-*-*-*-*-

"Your mum told me that Harry walked you home last night," Zayn says coolly like it's as normal to bring up as what he had for dinner the night before and Louis blanches, slamming his locker door shut.

There are so many things wrong with that sentence that Louis would like to address in the minute and a half they have before class, so he starts with "Since when do you and my mother speak?", shifting his books from one arm to the other and leveling his best friend with a dark glare.

"We text occasionally," Zayn shrugs and alright. It's only half past seven in the morning and Louis is already 300% done with today.

"You text my mother occasionally," Louis parrots because really, he doesn't know what else to say in a situation like this. "Why do you even have my mother's number, Zayn? _Why_?"

"She likes to check up on you, babes. And so do I. Moving on.. _Harry_ , yeah?"

Louis chooses then to start his walk to class, skillfully maneuvering his way in and out of crowds and grossly intertwined couples with practiced, nimble feet. "He walked me home, but of course you knew that because you and my mum are worse than a pair of old ladies. So what?"

Zayn has no trouble following Louis' swerving path, probably because he has a hold on one of the straps from his backpack. "He's pretty fit, eh?"

"No."

"No?"

"Nope."

"Not at all?"

Louis wrenches open his classroom door and steps half way inside, holding it open so he can shake his head once again in Zayn's face and answer with a resounding, "Not at all," before letting it close shut behind him as he makes his way to his desk.

He needs new friends, he thinks for the three millionth time in his life. One of these times he'll follow through.

-*-*-*-*-

Before he knows it, before he even has the time to check on a calendar and realize, it's Halloween weekend. Also known as one of the biggest weekends for parties of the year for highschoolers all around and normally Louis would be bouncing off the walls in excitement.

However this year around, the set of fall over Doncaster and it's chilly air settled a bit too deeply into Louis' bones, rendering him sick and snotty and bedridden. Downstairs he can hear the excited chatterings of all his sisters dressing up in their costumes to go out for the night and he's probably more disappointed that he can't walk with them for an hour like he normally does than he is about the party. But alas, life stops for no one and Louis coughs weakly into his comforter, opening his eyes only when he hears little feet padding across his carpet to the edge of his bed.

One of the twins is standing in front of him dressed as the cutest lady bug he's ever seen in his entire life and he smiles despite his phlegmy, miserable self. "Hey Dais, the costume looks great."

She smiles down at him sweetly and nods. "Pheobe is a butterfly," she tells him and then frowns. "Are you going to come with us, Lou? Mum said you were ill and you had to sleep."

Louis nods and props himself up on his elbows so he can look at his little sister more clearly. "Yeah, sorry. I've got to stay home and rest so I can get better."

Daisy fiddles with one of the foam legs coming off of her costume, smile never faltering. "I'll split my candy with you if you'd like. I know how much you like your lollies."

If he weren't prone to hacking up a lung every time he tried to stand up and if it didn't feel like someone had cracked his skull open and stuffed it full of socks, Louis would be up and out of bed in .3 seconds flat. "Thanks, lovey. But I'll be okay. They'll be _your_ sweets and you won't have to share them with anybody, 'kay?"

Daisy just nods and pats his hand. "I've got to go trick or treat now, Lou. Feel better!" She blows a kiss on her way out of the door and Louis waits until he hears it click shut before dropping down onto his bed with a groan. Tonight is going to suck.

There are texts on his phone from the likes of Zayn and Liam asking him if he needs anything or if he'd like for them to stay with Louis for the night and skip out on their own plans for the evening, both of which Louis' politely declined. So Louis settles in for a night full of tissues and cheesy tv horror films with crappy special effects and annoying screeching.

He must fall asleep sometime between the first girls murder and the ending of the movie because the next time he opens his eyes the credits are rolling and there's someone sitting at the end of his bed.

Louis promptly screams bloody murder (albeit a little hoarsely) and punches out an arm to protect himself, kicking out his feet as well, but only ends up tangling himself in his cocoon of blankets more so until he rolls right off the edge of his bed and onto his hard floor.

"Are you alright?" the murderer asks him amusedly, standing up from the bed and walking over to his collapsed body. Probably to kill him.

"Holy _shit_ ," Louis breathes, heart pounding so loud that he can hear it in his ears. "What the fuck are you doing here?!" He hates Harry Styles so much.

Harry laughs warmly, pulling the blanket away from Louis' limbs and offering a big palm to help him up. Louis stares at the hand for a moment before grabbing it for the sole reason that he's too tired to work on standing up on his own. "That was certainly a warm welcome."

Louis falls back onto his bed and rolls his eyes as Harry settles his comforter back over him, eyes too bright for Louis' taste at the moment. Nobody should look that happy after just scaring a sickly person out of their bed. It's rude.

While Harry quite literally tucks Louis into bed, folding the comforter under the mattress and everything so it doesn't come out again, he takes the opportunity to look over his attire. Laughter bubbles up too quickly to swallow it back down and Harry looks up in surprise at the sound. "What's so funny?"

Louis waves a hand out in Harry's general direction and laughs harder at the sight. Not only are all of his curls straightened out, but they're all gelled to one side of his head and he looks _hilarious_. He's got a pair of thick sunglasses on even though he's inside and the room is dimmed and he's dressed in head to toe black. "What are you even supposed to be?"

"Oh c'mon," Harry sighs. "You really can't guess?"

Louis stares at him through sleep heavy eyes and sneezes. "I'm not up to date on all your hipster culture. Enlighten me, please."

"I'm Skrillex! He's not even hipster! He's-"

Louis cuts off Harry's exasperated babbling with a nasty cough and slaps away the hands that reach out to rub his back. "Stop- stop that," he coughs, sucking in gulps air as quickly as he hacks them out into the crease of his elbow. Harry drops onto the bed beside him again and scoots closer with every passing second of the spectacle that is Louis trying to catch his breath until he's right next to him, watching on closely with concerned eyes.

"Alright, now that _that's_ over," Louis jokes weakly once his chest has finally stopped spasming and he can breath normally without Harry looking like he's ready to perform mouth to mouth. "On to the next question: What are you doing here?" Harry opens his mouth to start, but is cut off once again by another question Louis rapidly fires off, "And more importantly, how did you get in my house?"

"I was at Nick's house- at the party and I was looking for you, but you weren't there. So I asked Zayn and he said you were feeling poorly. And now I'm here," Harry explains, clapping his hands against his thighs and rubbing up and down. "I tried to stop and buy some soup, but nobody's open tonight."

"You didn't have to do that," Louis says quietly, steadfastly ignoring the warm fluttering his stomach is doing at the thought of this stupid boy leaving a party and trying to buy soup for him. "That's really sweet of you to do so." Nobody has ever done anything of the sort for him before excluding his mother and Zayn and Louis feels giddy at the gesture.

Harry pushes his ridiculous sunglasses up into his hair and reveals a pair of eyes that are fond as he smiles down at Louis, squeezing a big hand over one of his knees from over the blanket. "Wasn't a big deal or anything. I just wanted to see you," he shrugs. "Make sure you weren't dying or anything."

Louis swallows thickly and twists his fingers together under the blanket nervously. It's probably because he's sick and delirious, but Harry Styles is being the nicest person ever right now and Louis almost sort of wants to kiss his face for it. And that's even with the scary hair gel which is really saying something.

The air around them feels thick and the silence this time around is less awkward and more comfortable and Louis' heart is beating way too fast and his skin feels hot from something entirely other than the sickness and there's something flickering in Harry's eyes that is making him want to fall over and and _and_.

And he feels like _this_ could be _something_ and that's scary.

Harry's eyes flicker down to his lips and Louis' breath stutters in his chest because no. No no no this cannot happen. He needs to stop this right now and his sock filled brain races to find something to say other than the _Stop that_ that's jumping at the tip of his tongue. "You never told me how you got in my house," is the first thing he comes up with and the words are maybe a bit panicky and a lot rushed, jumbled together like his mind feels, but Harry's eyes are back on his and the atmosphere around them suddenly feels a thousand times more breathable.

Harry chuckles and shakes his head. "Zayn told me where you keep the spare key. Under the mat, Lou? _Really_? It's like you're asking to be burgled." Louis rolls his eyes again and everything is back to normal.

"Shut it, you tosser."

Harry stays until the girls come crashing through his door, all talking over each other to show their big brother the amount of candy they got and boasting how they're all positive they have the most in their pillow case even though they all went to the same houses together. He even stays a little later to help Louis help each girl go through their candy and swap with each other for the sweets they liked better.

It was a long since tradition in the Tomlinson household that Louis has always overseen to make sure the two older ones didn't take advantage of the two younger twins and Harry surprisingly makes a great contribution.

By the time Harry finally does leave, every Tomlinson child is on the brink of sleep including Louis himself. He helps Louis usher the younglings into their beds before pushing their older brother into his own with a hand at the small of his back. "Night, Lou," he tells him softly as Louis pulls the blankets up to his ears. "I had a really great time tonight."  
  
"Me too," Louis manages through a yawn, blue eyes just barely peeking through under droopy eyelids. "G'night." The resemblance he bears to a tired kitten in that moment is startling, but he knows better than to say so lest he want an upset, grumpy Louis on his hands.

Harry grabs his shoes from the place under the bed where he had kicked them off to hours before and tip toes to the door, flicking off the light on his way out. He pauses in the doorway and turns back to Louis, a thoughtful expression gracing his features. "Hey, Lou?"

"Hmm," Louis hums sleepily from his spot buried deep in his pillow.

"Go on a date with me?" Harry asks into the dark.

A quiet snuffle of a snore is the only response he's awarded and he chuckles. "Yeah, yeah. I'll ask next week."

-*-*-*-*-

Things more or less change after Halloween.

Harry still shows up frequently and unexpectedly everywhere Louis goes (i.e. Niall's house, the grocery store, the cinema, his sisters dance recital, his house, etc. etc.) and Louis is still determined to hate him and every stupid hipster-y thing he does. But it's different.

Louis doesn't spend the whole time they're together plotting ways to get rid of his gangly shadow and instead welcomes his presence, happy to hang out with him. It's almost as if they're friends(?) - if that's even the right word for what they are.

Harry's date proposals come less and less frequently, a good thing in theory since of course Louis hates Harry so much. Except every time Harry leaves without asking Louis out, he finds himself stuck in his thoughts ( _Does Harry like someone else? Does he have a boyfriend? Is he fed up with the rejection? Is he ever going to ask again?_ ) for the rest of the night.

But he never dwells for longer than necessary as it's obviously silly to be so hung up over someone he's rejected a million and one times before. Obviously. He files those thoughts away in a special drawer in his mind marked _Do Not Open_.

November passes in a blur of falling leaves and study dates with Harry spent more often than not goofing off, watching a movie, or even entertaining Louis' gaggle of sisters if they're at his house for the night.

It's one day early in the first week of December that Zayn asks if he still _loathes_ Harry Styles and his 'stupid conniving hipster ways' (a direct quote from Louis) and Louis' first and automatic reaction is a solid, "Yes, of course I do."

They both know the words are empty and Louis means the exact opposite, but neither says anything farther on the matter and Louis is perfectly content to keep it that way.

Obviously.

-*-*-*-*-

"So," Harry starts, bending over the thick barrier between the ice and the concrete until he's practically leaning onto Louis. "What are your plans for your birthday?" There at the ice rink for a day of skating, but so far Harry's made no move to actually put on a pair of skates, leaving Louis out on the ice by himself.

Louis tugs his bright red knitted beanie down over his cold ears from where it keeps slipping up to and shrugs. "I don't know. 'S on Christmas Eve so it's not like I've got a bunch of options."

There's a scarf wrapped around Harry's neck that's now hanging over the ice and Louis thinks about pulling on it and skating away for a moment before deciding that that could end horribly and bloodily. Harry rights himself up anyway and wraps the scarf around his neck again so Louis couldn't even try if he wanted to. "What do you usually do on your birthday, then?"

"I usually just stay home on my actual birthday," Louis shrugs, grabbing ahold of the barrier to pull him back and forth over the ice on his skates. "The weekend before my birthday is when I celebrate it with all my friends. Zayn or Niall or Stan usually have a party at their house depending on whose is empty for the night. But this year nobody's available so I don't know."

"I'm available," Harry says through a smile, leaning back into Louis' space right as Louis pulls himself closer to the barrier. It all makes for some very close faces and some blushing on Louis' part. Thank god his cheeks are already rosy from the frosty air.

"You are?" Louis repeats dumbly, gliding a couple inches back away from Harry to give himself some proper breathing room. He's not really sure if Harry and him are on the same page because surely he's not offering his house up for a birthday party to someone he's only known for about three months. It doesn't _feel_ like three months, sure, but it's the principle of the matter.

Harry moves to the left through the opening meant for skaters trying to get on the ice and steps through in his old, dirty converse. "Stop that," Louis commands immediately. The ice is for ice skates, Harry's just being dumb now. "You need to go put on skates."

"I've not got any skates with me," Harry says and makes a show of raising his arms and looking around his body to make sure there's no sign of skates.

"Go rent them," Louis points a finger- which actually ends up being four of his fingers due to the limited capabilities of his favorite pair of thick mittens- at the brick building in the corner under a large sign reading _Rentals_.

Harry doesn't bother turning around and looking to the building Louis' directing him too. He merely walks up beside Louis and presents his arm up for taking. "I'll break my ankle if I skate," he offers in explanation when Louis gives in and tucks his red mitten clad fingers into the crook of Harry's peacoatted elbow.

"As I was saying," he begins again and takes a step forward, pulling Louis along on the ice beside him. This is a terrible idea. Louis can already see Harry slipping and bringing Louis down with him or Harry getting kicked off the ice for his shoes. Harry's just dumb. "My sister's off at uni and my mum and step dad are off to visit my gran for the weekend. So the house is free."

"They're just going to leave you home alone?" Louis questions incredulously. There has to be a catch somewhere.

There isn't apparently because Harry just shakes his head and keeps walking. "They trust me not to do anything illegal or life threatening or irresponsible. I'm a good child."

"Of course you are," Louis breathes, his words visible in the steamy puff of air mixing with the cold temperature. "No, but. I don't think you understand what you're saying. You know that you're offering up your house for a party, right?" He peeks a glance out of the side of his eyes, which is much easier now that the skates give him a couple inches of extra height, and tries to gauge Harry's reaction.

Harry just nods and flashes him a toothy smile, dimple and all. Louis wants to poke at it until it disappears. "Relax, babe. I know what I'm agreeing to. One condition though," he says in a suspicious tone and Louis' stomach automatically bunches up in knots.

Harry's probably going to ask him out again right now- that's the conclusion that Louis comes to in his mind. And well, if that's what he needs to get this party going then would it really be all that bad? Maybe, maybe not. But it's a sacrifice that Louis' already prepared himself to take. He figures the look of shock on Harry's face when he finally says yes will be worth it.

"Yes?" Louis prompts, his heart beating just a teensy bit faster. He's so ready for this.

"I get to help plan it," Harry announces and Louis can feel the smile fall clean off his face. Blue eyes fall down to where his feet are moving over the ice and it's only a brief moment before he's tacking a smile back to where it belongs. But it's a long enough moment for Harry to catch it and when Louis looks back up at him, he's frowning.

"Sorry," Louis chokes out, mentally slapping himself silly. "I just had this terrifying vision of what my party would look like if I let you plan it. It was a lot of monotoned singing over ukuleles and acid washed jeans." He throws in a fake shudder for good measure and his heart finally starts beating again when Harry laughs.

"Hey," Harry drags out the syllable in a whine. "I said I want to _help_ plan it. You still get some say in it."

Okay, so he was wrong about Harry's condition. Very wrong, but nothing to get all huffy about. He hates Harry Styles so going on a date with him would just be silly. _Silly_.

-*-*-*-*-

The actual planning of Louis' birthday party, or what Harry's so kindly dubbed Louis' Big Eighteenth Birthday Bash (capitals and all), doesn't happen until a week later over coffee. It's a place that the younger boy suggested what with it's mismatch decorations, depressing music, and bad lighting and really, Louis expected nothing less.

Louis kind of wants to hit Harry right now. He's got just about every pastry the shop sells on a chipped plate in front of him, but they're going ignored for Harry's got his eyes narrowed and trained on Louis. His lips are pursed in concentration and resting against his intertwined fingers and yeah, Louis wants to hit him.

"Stop that."

"So tell me, Lou. When you think of your birthday what do you see?"

Louis shrugs, stirring his steaming tea around in his hand painted mug. "Lots of cake. Drinks and music. That's pretty much it, I guess."

Harry leans back in his chair, stretching his long limbs out with a pleased groan and nods, completely missing the way Louis' eyes linger on the little strip of pale skin that's revealed. "That's easy. I totally took you for a diva."

He shoots Harry a glare over the rim of his cup and sneers. "Filthy hipster. Look Harry," Louis teases and swallows a mouthful of scalding tea. "I drank my tea before it was cool. Can we be friends now?" His tongue really hurts now, but it's definitely worth it when Harry scowls in return.

"Did you really just burn your tongue for the sake of a joke?" Harry almost laughs and then adds on as an afterthought, "Also, we're already friends."

Louis leans over and snatches the beanie from Harry's head in response, immaturely satisfied with the way his flattened curls flop forward over his forehead in defeat. "Stop worrying about my tongue and plan my party. You wanted to do it, now do it."

Harry pouts and stuffs his mouth full of muffins.

They stay there huddled over the little rickety table until an employee comes and shoos them away. Harry's got napkins full of notes on what cakes Louis likes (because Harry's promised to bake him his favorite type despite his protests) and Louis' favorite music (because Harry insisted on making a playlist for the event and is promising/threatening to include Britney Spears entire discography) and Louis' favorite people (" _You can invite your grungy friends so long as they promise to shower before hand and wear underwear_ ").

All in all, it's a successful night even if they get in a tiny scuffle outside of the coffee shop when Louis tries to give Harry some money for the whole thing and Harry refuses to take it on the grounds that it'll be his birthday present to him. Louis only gives up on trying to shove the money down Harry's pants because instead of fighting like a normal person, he stands still and let's Louis stick his hand farther down.

He punches him in the throat for it and stomps away. He _loathes_ Harry Styles so much.

-*-*-*-*-

Like promised, Britney Spears' voice is blaring from every corner of the house to the point that the walls are thrumming with the beat of _I Wanna Go_ and Louis might be a little slap happy. He's dressed up in his favorite trousers and everybody's laughing around him and having a good time and it's just a great night all around.

Niall dropped a fuzzy pink birthday tiara on his head not too long ago with a big _18_ drawn out in shiny rhinestones and Louis hasn't gotten around to taking it off so. So he's got a plastic cup full of some fruity drink he had Harry mix for him earlier in one hand and he's shaking his ass on someone he doesn't know the name of, but it's great.

Harry disappeared half an hour ago, not that Louis' noticed or anything. He's too busy trying to dance on everybody who came to the party tonight. It's like a thank you since he's too cheap to buy goodie bags.

Except someone is yelling and it's not the normal party yelling. It's an annoying yelling that Louis will not accept at his birthday party. "Who the f-" he slurs angrily, but the words instantly die on his lips when he sees none other than Harry Styles hoisting himself up above everyone else in the room.

"Everybody! Everyb- _hey_!" Harry's standing on top of the same coffee table that Louis had helped him push to the side before the party started, waving his limbs all around in an attempt to pull the attention of the crowd to him. "I'd like to say a few words!"

Surprisingly enough, everybody in the room slowly quiets and they all turn to Harry expectantly, Louis included. Harry scans over the crowd looking for one person in particular which ends up being Louis because the moment his eyes land on him, his whole face lights up. "The birthday boy!" he crows cheerfully and yep, he is so drunk.

Louis is too, though, so he can't judge. He just wiggles his way out of the pit of sweaty bodies until he's right in front of the coffee table, tipping his head all the way back to wave lazily at Harry. "Hello," he giggles into his cup.

"Come up here!" Harry's still shouting even though the room has quieted considerably, but he's reaching a hand down and pulling Louis up beside him with a strong arm around his waist and frankly, Louis could care less about anything but that arm and the way he's allowed to hold on to Harry's big shoulders right now.

Harry stares down at him stupidly with fuzzy green eyes and it might be a minute or an hour before he starts speaking again and shouting, "It's Louis' birthday!" Everyone is too drunk to care or notice that it's actually not his birthday today apparently because they all cheer and clap. "And he's the best person I've ever known so everybody should make sure he has the best birthday ever!"

More cheers and more clapping, but Louis doesn't look at any of them. Not when Harry's got his lips so close to his. "I've prepared something for this moment!" Harry exclaims, pumping his fist into the air and spilling a cup full of alcohol out over a random girl.

The arm he's come to love so dearly slips away from his waist as Harry backs up and Louis would pout if it weren't for the absurd wiggling he's doing as a drunken substitute for dancing. "This is for my favorite boy in the whole entire world! Hit it," he points to the corner of the room where Niall is standing next to the stereo and suddenly there's music playing again.

Harry throws his cup out into the mass of bodies dramatically, looks Louis dead in the eye, does a body roll, and sings _Baby can't you see, I'm falling._

He's never going to get Britney Spears out of his head again, he thinks and laughs so hard he almost pees in his trousers.

-*-*-*-*-

As if throwing him a huge eighteenth birthday bash wasn't enough, Harry spends the morning of his actual birthday sending him a near constant stream of texts alerting Louis that not only does Harry want to come over for cake later in the day, but he also has another gift he wants to give him- this time for Christmas.

Louis knows there's a present resting on top of his desk with Harry's name on it as well so he gives his friend the okay to come over and let's his mother know to set a place for one more.

"I got you a present," Louis tells him as soon as he walks through his bedroom door an hour later and Harry looks incredulous, eyebrows all raised and mouth all twisted. Louis' heart may or may not flutter a little bit, but that's just dumb so.

"What?" he asks, scratching the back of his head and putting the mess of tattoos on his inner bicep on display for Louis to drool at. Louis in turn stares everywhere but that particular spot and pats the space on his bed in front of him.

The bed dips slightly under his weight and Louis shoves the badly wrapped package into his awaiting hands with a shy smile. "It's nothing too earth shattering or anything. But I saw it and thought of you," he explains and pulls his legs into an Indian position to give his fingers something to fiddle with.

Harry sets the present he walked in with for Louis to his side and out of his reach in exchange for the one he's being offered. "I'm sure it's going to be great, babe," he's quick to reassure and the smile he gives Louis is so fond and sincere that his chest hurts. "You didn't have to get me anything."

Louis rolls his eyes and scoffs, eyeing the supremely wrapped package on Harry's other side pointedly. "But you got me a gift. How would that be fair, huh?"

"It's different," Harry insists.

"It's not," Louis shoots back.

Harry doesn't answer, instead busying himself with toying with a loose corner, looking up at Louis expectantly as if asking permission. Louis nods and the sound of tearing paper is automatic. It's a moment before Harry extracts the present from the wrapping with careful fingers, unfolding the black t-shirt that Louis semi-folded inside.

He'd seen it at the mall during his last visit, pinned high up on the wall and emblazoned with the phrase ' _Hipsta Please_ ' and Louis didn't think twice about getting it. "I know it's not from a thrift shop or vintage like you normally like..." he trails off jokingly, some uncertainty ringing through, but the smile on Harry's face doesn't have him worried at all.

Harry laughs bashfully, dropping his chin down to his chest so his curls fall all over and holds the t-shirt out in front of him for careful observation. "It's perfect, Lou. I love it." The look he gives him is just so... _much_ that Louis shakes his head and reaches for the present Harry brought him.

"Alright, my turn!" he announces and snatches the package from the bed. He'd feel bad for destroying such nice wrapping, ribbon and big sparkly bow and all, if it weren't for the anxious look Harry trains on his face, waiting for Louis to open his gift.

A laugh startles from his throat when he realizes that there's a t-shirt in here just like he got Harry. "Great minds think alike, I guess," Harry chuckles and Louis nods absentmindedly, pulling the fabric out and turning it around to look at the front.

"Harry!" he screeches angrily and clutches the shirt to his chest to hide the huge, bolded letters from view. The teenager in question is too busy dissolving into giggles to worry about Louis' anger and he huffs furiously, peeking at the shirt once more to make sure he saw it right the first time.

Surely Harry didn't get him a shirt with _DAT ASS_ screaming over the front.

"You absolute wanker!" Louis cries. "My mother does my laundry. She's going to see this!"

Harry's got a hand over his open mouth, muffling his cackles and he wipes tears of mirth from his eyes. "I saw it and thought of you," he quotes back at him in between his chortles.

"I hate you," Louis monotones, folding up the soft fabric into a little square. "I actually hate you more than I've ever hated anybody in my entire life, oh my god."

"No you don't," Harry shakes his head, pulling the shirt from Louis' hands into his own and shaking it out again. He holds the shirt up by the shoulders over Louis' frame and nods appreciatively. "Probably could've gone with a small, hmm," he clucks his tongue and he sounds exactly like his mother does when buying his sisters clothing. Ugh, he's so dumb.

"Why are you even a real person?" Louis groans and bats the shirt away from his chest. "I hope you know that I'm never going to wear this in public. Ever."

Harry just smiles at him tenderly and shrugs. "That's alright. You can wear it when you're with just me." He's already gathering the crumpled, colorful paper that fell to the floor in Louis' fit and he's just the weirdest person he's ever met. Louis would have left that there for the next two weeks until someone came in and yelled at him to tidy up.

"You're the last person I'm going to wear this with." Louis takes the shirt and shoves it into one of his already overflowing drawers. There's already a smile threatening to break through now that he's fussed a bit and he turns back to Harry with a sigh. "Thank you for the present, love."

Harry opens his arms invitingly and Louis wastes no time in falling against his solid chest, nose smushing uncomfortably against his body. "Thank you for my shirt. I promise to wear it all the time unlike some people.." he teases.

Louis breathes into the material of Harry's shirt and murmurs, "Yeah, well," his soft words even softer buried amongst his clothing.

It should be weird because, y'know, he hates Harry and all that jazz, yet it's the farthest thing from it. In fact, they stay like that, exchanging words quietly between them until Louis' mum calls them both down for cake and ice cream. But really, it's nothing. Not a big deal at all.

-*-*-*-*-

_Happy Christmas Lou!!!!!! :) xx_

Louis stares down at the little digital words on his phone screen and sighs. This is getting out of control. He supposed to _hate_ Harry Styles, not get fucking _butterflies_ every time his name pops up on his phone. That's preposterous is what that is.

His fingers fly over the keyboard and he contemplates the repercussions of sending the _i hate you sm_ that's glowing on his screen. He deletes it.

 _Happy Christmas Hazza! Hope it's a good one xxx_ is what he ultimately sends and only because his finger slips at the last second accidentally adding two more little x's. By the time Harry receives it and responds it's too late to correct, oh well.

He spends some time screaming into a pillow and cursing the day Harry Styles decided to move his pretty ass to Doncaster. He rues the day Harry strolled into English class on his stupidly long legs and decided to sit right next to Louis and flash him the most charming smile in the history of charming smiles.

His life would be so much easier sans one Harry Styles. But it would be a whole lot less fun too. Especially since he gets a text from Harry asking if he wants to accompany him to his twatty hipster friend Nick's new years eve party next week. Louis rolls his eyes but replies in the affirmative anyway.

-*-*-*-*-

Louis' root beer has just about sloshed on every single person on the make shift dance floor by now, but he can't find it in himself to care at all. And nobody else seems to be complaining about it much either.

There's approximately six or seven minutes left of the year and the pit of Louis' stomach is swirling uncomfortably.

Nick Grimshaw's living room has become a mass of writhing bodies moving to the beat of some new song on the radio; it's sheer, sweaty chaos. Louis' jumping up on his tip toes and trying to spot a head of familiar curls, but he's had no luck at all so far and it's dampening his spirits.

The thing is, it's New Years Eve: the time for new beginnings and resolutions, a time where changing your entire life is not only accepted, but encouraged. And Louis' spent the past week moping around his house, doing some serious thinking about these last few months and everything they've meant and all that good stuff.

He's come to terms with the fact that Harry Styles might just be a big part of his life and he's come to terms with the fact that he might just be okay with that. The only thing he's having trouble coming to terms with is the fact that Harry invited him to the party, drove him here, gave him a soda, and then disappeared. The thought that he's off with someone else on New Years Eve doesn't sit right with him at all.

Clinging to the hope that Harry might of texted him, Louis checks his phone and frowns when not only does the screen show no missed texts, but also that there's about four minutes left until midnight. He's getting frustrated and grumpy and upset and he's thinking about finding Zayn and leaving when there's a tap on his shoulder.

Of course Harry's conveniently standing there, smiling like nothing's wrong at all when Louis turns around and that just serves to fuel his anger. "Where were you?" Louis shouts, half because the room is unbelievably loud and half because he's pissed. "You disappeared!"

" 'M sorry. I lost track of time and someone just mentioned that midnight is in," he looks down at his phone for confirmation. "Two minutes. So I figured that I'd go looking for you."

"You're a twat," Louis tells him in reply. Stupid Harry Styles shrugs and looks like he wants to say something, but the room is going crazy and it's nearly impossible to make anything out.

Harry starts speaking, but his voice is too low for Louis to catch anything other than, "-wanted to spend it with you," but it's enough to give him that little spark of courage he's been searching for all evening.

Everybody is yelling and cheering around them and Louis' ears might be ringing, but he throws his arms around Harry's neck and ignores it. Harry peers down at him curiously, green eyes narrowed like they can read into what he's doing. Their bodies are pressed tight together and it's a heady sensation- one that he can feel tingling all over, excitement dancing over the tips of his fingers where they curl around his neck.

The countdown starts around them and somehow the noise intensifies. Louis can only focus on the way Harry's smiling down at him though, like he's the only important thing in a room full of topsy-turviness.

" _Nine!_ " the crowd screams.

Louis knows what comes after the countdown and he knows that Harry probably thinks Louis' draping himself over him because he's going to give him a new years kiss. He doesn't pull away.

" _Eight!_ "

And before Louis even knows what he's doing, "Why don't you ask me out anymore?" slips from the forefront of his mind to a place out in the open and up for scrutiny.

 _"Five_!"

There's a fiery blush crawling from the apples of his cheeks to the tips of his ears and he actually wants to swallow his tongue so he never has the chance to speak again. Harry doesn't pull away though so that's a good sign. Rather, he winds his arms around Louis' waist and pulls him in impossibly closer.

" _Three_!"

Harry dips his head down so his lips just brush against the lobe of his ear and Louis can hear his intake of breath before he speaks.

" _Two_!"

"Louis," Harry starts, but Louis doesn't give him time to finish.

 _"One!_ " everyone roars.

Louis pulls Harry back out by his curls and with one look, he makes up his mind. Just as everybody starts screaming about the new year, Louis rocks up on the tip of his toes and smashes their lips together because as much as he hates Harry Styles, he loves him a lot too.

The room is loud, but his heart is louder and Louis ignores all the hands clapping over his back and twists his fingers tighter around Harry's curls. When their lips fall apart, Harry's forehead knocks against Louis' and he goes cross eyed trying to look him in the eye.

"Louis?" Harry rushes out in a puff of giddy breath. Louis can feel the way his chest is moving rapidly and know's that his is no better at the moment.

"Yes, Harry?" he asks, lips pink and pulled taut in a smile he's sure that's never going to leave his face again.

"Go on a date with me," Harry asks for the hundredth time and this time Louis finally says yes.

"I'd love to."

**Author's Note:**

> So this is unbeta'd and was written in about two days so please forgive me for any grammar issues/mistakes. Also, this was completely inspired by my love Gaythann who is harrystylesbeanie on tumblr so check her out if you'd like. Thank you for reading!!!!! 
> 
> tumblr- fackinglouis


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